Letters to Santa
by magneticdice
Summary: the Gallaghers have a family tradition of writing letters to Santa. part 2 of my "A Very, Merry Gallavich Christmas" series.


**Letters to Santa**

Mickey couldn't believe he'd been dragged into participating in yet another stupid Gallagher family tradition. Okay, not so much "dragged" as "blackmailed," because Ian had been dead serious when he'd threatened to not fuck him for a month if Mickey didn't come over for dinner. Now that dinner was over, it was followed by the whole friggin' gang writing letters to Santa Clause, _together_.

"Here you go, Mickey," Debbie said as she held out a pencil and a sheet of paper for him. Mickey eyed the paper; it had clearly been torn from a spiral notebook because it still had the little torn edges on one side. "You can take the kaboodies off yourself," she added. He must have taken too long because Ian took the paper and pencil from his little sister and shoved them into Mickey's hands with a glare.

"Fine," Mickey huffed, accepting his fate. "So what the fuck am I supposed to write?" he asked Ian.

"Language!" Fiona said, lobbing her pencil at Mickey's head. The younger Gallaghers all started sniggering but stopped immediately when Mickey caught the stick mid-air and glared at them, deciding who would be the target of his retaliation. He didn't have time to make that choice, however, because Ian snatched the pencil from his hand and rolled it across the table back to his older sister.

"You can start with 'Dear Santa,'" Carl supplied.

"Don't be a smart-ass, you little shit," Mickey said to him. "I know you start with 'Dear Santa'." Fiona gave Mickey another look which reminded him of just how protective she could be when it came to her siblings.

"The rules are simple, Mickey. We all go around and say what we want, and then we write it down in our letters to Santa and explain why we deserve it," Debbie explained.

Mickey started scrawling the words onto his sheet.

"Don't forget to remind him you've been a good boy and that you haven't been in Juvie this year," Lip teased.

"As long as you don't forget to remind him you haven't knocked anyone up this year," Mickey spat back.

"Okaaaaay... So, what do you want for Christmas, Carl?" Fiona cut in, obviously trying to change the subject before a fight broke out. She adjusted Liam on her lap so that she could write her own list.

"My own paintball gun and a taser _that actually works_," he said, the last bit directed at Lip.

"How 'bout something that's _not _a weapon?" Ian asked.

Carl squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds before coming up with something else. Mickey watched him write down "Boobies" onto his paper and stifled a laugh.

"What about you, Debs?" Lip said. "Should Santa get you a new doll?"

The younger redhead rolled her eyes at her brother. "Puh-lease. I'm not a _kid_ anymore. I want make-up this year... and a puppy."

Fiona was the one to laugh that time. "Debbie, we can't even afford to feed ourselves, and you expect us to feed a dog too?"

"Puppy!" Liam screamed unexpectedly from Fiona's lap. "Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!" he sang happily as he bounced up and down on his big sister's lap.

"Great Deb, look what you've started..." Fiona muttered.

"I'd be down for a puppy," Carl added with a grin.

"See, Fiona? Everyone wants a puppy," Debbie said gleefully.

For the next few minutes, the arguments ensued and Mickey felt like he was back at home. This amount of shouting wasn't something he ever expected to hear from the Gallaghers—at least not when Frank wasn't over.

"Nobody's getting a puppy!" Lip said with a finality that made even Liam stop shouting. "Now can we please get these lists over with?"

"Fine," Debbie said, voice dripping with disappointment. She crossed the word "puppy" off of her letter. "What do _you_ want?" she questioned Lip.

"Same thing I want every year, Debs. More weed." Lip chuckled and both Ian and Fiona shook their heads while laughing right along with him.

"What you _should_ want is for Mandy to return your calls," Ian said disapprovingly. Mickey shot a look at Lip and noticed the frown on his face. Lip made eye contact with Mickey for just a second before looking away.

Mandy had broken up with Lip when she found out he was cheating on her yet _again_, but had begged Mickey not to hurt him. He couldn't stand to look at his sister when she was hurting and not do anything about it, but a promise was a promise, and even Ian had begged him not to get involved. The fun part was that Lip knew nothing about his promise to not kick his ass, so he still expected Mickey to deliver him a beatdown at any moment. Mickey could live with that.

Once again, Fiona tried to change the subject to break the tension in the room. "Ian? What do you want?"

"Me? Oh... um... nothing."

"Bullshit!"

"_Mickey!" _Fiona shouted, exasperated.

"What?! Shit ain't a bad word... we all do it. Little miss 'I-want-a-puppy' here said the rules are that everyone has to say what they want. I ain't heard _shit_ from you or Firecrotch."

Fiona cringed at hearing her brother referred to by that terrible nickname but recovered quickly. "Well that's easy. I want Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off this year. You all split the chores for once and let me sleep in. God knows I need a break..." Fiona sighed wistfully.

"I think that can be arranged..." Lip said, looking over at the other kids. They all nodded in turn, except Liam, who was far too busy chewing his hand. "That just leaves Ian and Mickey."

"The zipper of my ROTC tent is busted, so I want that fixed for Christmas. Shouldn't be too expensive..."

"That sounds doable," Fiona said. "Sheila will probably be able to do it for free if we just buy the zipper itself."

Mickey watched Ian as he nodded, but he could tell the redhead was hiding something. They hadn't been friends for over three years without Mickey learning how to read the kid.

"Mickey?" Fiona said. "You're up—last one, since we know _this _one's getting Carl's old toys," she said to Liam.

Mickey had had almost half an hour to think about how he would answer when it was his turn. Of course there were a lot of things he wanted, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna go spilling them to the Gallagher clan. "Maybe a bottle of Jack...or two," he supplied, and smiled because he didn't receive any complaints.

When they had all finished writing and their letters had been sealed, the family started cleaning up. Debbie collected the writing supplies and Carl gathered the dirty dishes and put them into the sink. Ian wiped the table down and Lip took Liam out of Fiona's lap and took him upstairs to get him ready for bed. Fiona was busy putting her coat on.

"Where are ya goin'?" Mickey asked.

"Gotta drop the letters into the mail box, right?" she said with a smile to the younger kids. When Mickey just raised an eyebrow, she elaborated in a hushed voice. "Debbie and Carl watch me walk to the end of the block from the window and make sure I drop their letters into the mailbox."

Mickey supposed it made sense. They all did say what they wanted out loud anyway.

"I'll drop them in on my way home," he said, holding his hand out for the letters.

Fiona looked at him, surprised by the offer. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'm walking that way anyway, right? No use in both of us going out in the cold," he reasoned.

Fiona looked genuinely thankful as she handed the stack over to Mickey.

"I'll call you later," Mickey said to Ian as he walked out from the kitchen door. Ian nodded.

Mickey walked along the sidewalk, leaving bootprints in the freshly fallen snow as he made his way to the mailbox. Making sure his back was to the window, he sifted through the stack and took out the letter from Ian, slipping it into his jacket pocket. He then turned so that the little Gallaghers could see as he dropped the letters into the box and re-closed the rusted, metal sliding-door of the mailbox.

He walked home as quickly as he could because he was freezing his balls off outside. It wasn't until an hour later that he finally had a second to himself in his room. He sat on his bed and slowly opened Gallagher's letter.

_Dear Santa,_

_Another stupid year of following this stupid tradition... I can't believe Fiona still plays along with it! I don't even know how Mickey agreed to come along. He _had_ to know I wouldn't actually not fuck him for a month! _

_This is the first Christmas that he hasn't been in Juvie..._

_I have no idea what to get him, and he probably wouldn't accept a gift anyway._

_All I want this year is for Mickey to tell me how he really feels about me. Not to shout it from the rooftops or write it on the skyline or however that stupid song goes... but to just tell ME how he really feels... because I'm sure I love him and I hope that when I finally say it to him, he can say it back._

_Okay, and I could definitely use a new sweater because Carl burned a hole into the front of mine, but it's totally cool if you can only give me one thing. I'll take Mickey over the sweater any day._

_Merry Christmas._

_Love,_

_Ian_

Mickey took his lighter out of his pocket and lit the bottom corner of Ian's gay-ass letter. He turned the page this way and that as the fire spread, until it got too close to his fingers, and then he dropped whatever was left into the ashtray beside his bed and watched it burn down.

Above everything, Ian and Mickey were friends... maybe even best friends... but did Mickey _love _him? He chewed on the side of his thumbnail as he thought about it. Ever since he'd been goaded into kissing the redhead and then their stupid quasi-sleepover, things between the two boys had changed a lot. Mickey was able to admit to himself that Ian was more than just a warm mouth to him. The kid mattered to him... and as long as Ian was content to let their relationship—or whatever it was—progress at its own, natural pace, and was okay with keeping their business on the down-low, he supposed he was okay with okay with it too.

Mickey had only ever loved two people in his life—his mom and Mandy. It would be a huge step to tell someone else—that someone else, being a _guy—_that he loved him... but Ian was the one person in the whole world that knew who Mickey really was and accepted that... accepted _him_. Ian obviously loved him and wanted to be near him and wanted to see more of him, and Mickey knew that it wasn't one-sided. He just _knew_ it.

Mickey had gotten shot _twice_ and gone to Juvie _twice_ for Ian. If that wasn't proof that he already felt that way about the kid, what was?

He thought about what he'd written in his own letter to Santa and laughed. All Mickey wanted was a really good, hard fuck from Ian! Why did the redhead have to go and ask for such a faggy gift?

Mickey shook his head at the stupidity of it all. It would probably be a while before Ian worked up the courage to tell Mickey he loved him, out loud.

So, he decided that, if and when Ian did say those words to him, he would stay them back.

He just didn't know he'd be saying them so soon—on New Year's Eve...


End file.
